Fashionably Late
by Wickfield
Summary: Becky is charming, cunning, and the absolute LAST person Dobbin would ever want to take advice from. Too bad she's the only one with the advice he needs most.


**A/N: **_Hopefully this isn't too out of character. In the book it seemed like Becky was pretty fond of Dobbin - I imagine she's not really used to true gentleman - and to be honest at the end I actually thought she was going to go after him herself (turned out she was acting for Amelia)! Anyway, this isn't really a shipping fic but I do wish we had seen more of them together in the book. Enjoy!_

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**Fashionably Late**

It was the chief of amusements, during the time of the battles against Napoleon, for the young Englishmen and women to assemble, in order to listen to French songs, at the Brussels Opera-House; and if you were _anybody_, then you would, as a matter of course, miss half the performance, in the aim of arriving, as the elite termed it, "fashionably late."

Now William Dobbin had never done anything fashionable in his entire life, but he _was_ late – and hopelessly lost in the enormous opera-house, besides. He ambled about in the lobby, peeping into various doors, which were always evidently the wrong one, and kept glancing at his watch to remind himself how late he was (the while earning peculiar looks from those fortunate enough to know where they were going). "If ever I needed Mrs. O'Dowd's "repayther," now would be the time," he muttered to himself, grimly; for in fact, it was Mrs. Peggy O'Dowd's extremely interesting discourse on the unmatched Dublin clockmakers that had caused his lateness this very evening. "It's my own fault for staying so long – I could have excused myself," he was thinking; when he saw another person enter into the lobby – a splendid, neat little person, dressed in the most shining silk, and softest furs. It was Mrs. Rebecca Crawley.

Our dear Becky had not, it seems, communicated her extensive virtues to Captain Dobbin, who regarded her with a kind of revulsion most uncalled-for. She, after all, had never done anything to _him_ – but she put him in mind of the old fable he had read as a child, in a battered Aesop at Dr. Swishtail's school, of the Jackdaw in borrowed Feathers. He saw her as a climber and a schemer, and (perhaps a bit prejudiced by her alignment with Mrs. Osborne, of which he certainly disapproved) he assigned to her, in his heart, all the associated crimes of a person unsatisfied with their true station. And though he tried, as a gentleman, to keep these beliefs to himself, he privately expected her eminent fall. Whether this was quite a fair appraisal by the esteemed Captain William Dobbin – formerly Figs, the green-grocer's son, who was a bit of a jackdaw himself, in some respects – is not for us to judge. But so was his opinion of Mrs. Crawley.

"I will be hanged if I am caught by that woman," he thought, and was instantly caught by that woman.

"Captain Dobbin!" she cried, sailing, as easily as if she walked on air, in his direction. "How surprised I am to find you here! Why aren't you tucked in your little box with George and Emmy, as usual? Or were you constrained by a prior engagement, you reprobate?" She held out her little hand, which Dobbin took, with no becoming grace.

It was one of nature's perversities that Mrs. Becky, in spite of herself, rather admired the honest captain. He was the only person she knew that did not care for her usual charms, who could not hide his disdain. And though she feared him because of it – we all fear what we are not used to, at first – she found herself sometimes desiring to _make_ him like her. Which was really quite unaccountable, since he was so awkward, and not at all interesting.

"I hate to miss any of the performance," she pursued, "but at least it is the fashion for us to be tardy, Captain Dobbin! I already sent Rawdon and the General ahead to procure a box – I hope it is a good one, or else I will have to punish them severely, I fear, for I do love Opera over all else."

"That explains…a great deal, Mrs. Crawley. I, myself, miscalculated my time, I am afraid," he answered. "And as you say, George and Mrs. Osborne are waiting for me." He hoped to use this excuse to get away from the artful young woman; but there was still the difficulty of finding his way _to_ George and Emmy. Becky could read his discomfit in his face, and gave a little laugh. "Why, Captain, I can tell you are anxious to be rid of me, but don't you see it is very lucky we have met? For you are in need of direction, being unfamiliar with this place, and I am in need of a gentleman to carry me in. And if _you_ are the gentleman you profess yourself to be – why, I am sure you will offer me your arm." She smiled again, a beautiful smile, and tapped his long arm with her fan.

Dobbin blinked – there was nothing he could do to protest, not without looking like a brute. "I am sure most gentlemen would be very glad to lead Mrs. Crawley," he thought, as he replaced his watch, and angled out his right arm in that lady's direction, very nearly knocking her down in the process, "but… but I am not." We have already mentioned William's opinions on her character, and her connection with Amelia, but we may also add that he distrusted Becky, in part, because she was a beautiful woman; and his previous experience with that division of the fairer sex had hitherto been less than encouraging. But she took the arm he offered quite gaily, and confidentially, and decorated it very nicely.

As for Mrs. Becky? _He has quite a strong arm,_ she found herself thinking – and then laughed at her own absurdity. _Emmy don't give him nearly enough attention, I think. He's ugly, but he's a better match for her than that silly Osborne – in temperament, at least – and she claims to be very forlorn over George's behavior, which this man doesn't share. Though, from what I have observed, this Dobbin is more intelligent, and she is a very silly goose, so perhaps it is just as well she cling to George – and choke the life out of him, instead._

All these curious thoughts passed through Rebecca's mind a moment or two after taking Captain Dobbin's arm – and never interrupted her cheerful display. "Though I _am_ a small woman, Captain Dobbin, you can trust in me for guidance – and I will count on you for support. That is a fine bargain, is it not?"

The captain simply nodded, and Becky continued, lightly, "Come now, Mr. Dobbin – you are so reserved to-night! Are not you and I friends?"

Captain Dobbin looked at the pretty young woman on his arm as another man might regard an insect, though he tried to hide his dislike for the cunning Mrs. Crawley. "We are both friends with George and Mrs. Osborne, I think," he replied, for he was nothing if not honest.

And Becky prized honesty, to be sure. She prized it very much. And, why, if the Captain wanted plain talk, as he seemed to, Becky would be more than obliged to favor him with her most honest and innocent observations. She leaned on his arm – felt him immediately stiffen, which was a shame – and remarked, "I am considered, by my friends, to be a very observant person. It is my curse, I fear – once I see something, I cannot allow it to remain disguised from me. My friends – and acquaintances, like yourself – know this, and they like to hear me repeat my observations, for their amusement. Would you like to hear one of my observations, Captain Dobbin? You look as if you could use a bit of amusement."

"You may do as you like, Mrs. Crawley," Dobbin answered, as he allowed Becky to steer him in the correct direction, eager to arrive at his destination and leave her. She directed the way with a motion of her fan, and remarked, "It concerns you. Ah, I see you are surprised!"

"I – I would not imagine you to take much notice of me, Mrs. Crawley," Dobbin replied. And indeed he did not, for various reasons.

"You underestimate yourself! I think that is one of your greatest faults. I rather overestimate myself, I suppose, but it has done me little harm, so far. In fact, I think you are quite a fine gentleman, Captain Dobbin."

_She is making a joke of me_, William thought, and frowned_. Though why would I expect any less from her? What can she say to me that would benefit me in any way?_

"And," Becky continued, as he regarded her with suspicion, "I believe you could expect fine prospects – particularly of the romantic sort – if you were not so preoccupied by your little liason with Amelia Osborne."

Captain Dobbin broke his arm away from her with such force, that even Rebecca was surprised; and he trembled very much, and was very pale, when he said, "Do you believe that _I_ would treat my dearest friend, and his sweet wife, with so little respect, as to suggest that I would ever engage in – even contemplate – the slightest impropriety? Do you claim that I would treat Mrs. Amelia as anything but a beloved friend, or so manipulate her confidence, in an aim to achieve my own ends? I suppose_ you _would – but if you do imagine this to be my intent, your "observations" are very much mistaken – very much."

He stood, towering over Mrs. Becky, white with embarrassment and indignation. But as we have said, that little woman appreciated plain talk, when she could get it, and she simply returned, "Oh, dear, Captain Dobbin. I believe _you_ when you say you are not interested in any little indiscretion – indeed, most people are not interested, when the person they so admire is not. Do not worry on that point, and please calm yourself, for you look at me as if I served under Napoleon, myself. There, now that is better," for with great effort, he had managed to calm himself. They were by now at the door they were to enter, and Becky had had her fun, and barbed the good Captain for his earlier impudence, and thus made certain, as if she hadn't already been decided, that he was abominably in love with Emmy – now it was time for her final message to him.

"Captain Dobbin, I am sure you think that I am very frivolous, and mean, and perhaps I am. My observation is that you much prefer the kind of woman who is wilting, and delicate, and so you and I are naturally at odds. When I allude to your connexion with Amelia, I only mean to say, that you ought not to spend all your life as a married lady's friend – that will lead to nothing more than waiting, and waiting, with little reward! Your feet may be large and ugly, but your mind is good, I think, and I am sure there is some lady willing – and available – to accept that combination." He looked at her, incredulous and silent, by the open door; but she only said, "Good night, Captain Dobbin! Enjoy the play!"

She gave his arm a little press, and kissed her fingers to him, as she glided off to her seat beside General Tufto; and Dobbin spied George and Amelia, and began to make his way over to their snug box.

"That woman is up to mischief," he told himself, as he tried to navigate the aisle. He was so confused by the late conversation, he was clumsier than ever, and tripped over innumerable pairs of feet as he moved toward the box. "I – I know she wants to prejudice me against George and Amelia, or to make me seem a fair-weather friend. That lady does not understand the virtue of constancy, and dislikes it in others. _I_ shall stand by George, and Amelia, for as long as they need me – and that will be reward enough." Even the worst of people may possess good sense, but Captain Dobbin had so convinced himself of Becky's depravity, that he certainly could not take any advice from her, no matter how sound it seemed – or how much it was needed.

He hailed his friends – George hushed him, lest he interrupt the song, and Amelia remarked, that he was so late, she thought he wasn't coming at all. Neither one of them took any more notice of him, the rest of the night; but across the hall, Becky looked at him, once or twice, and shooke her head. _I have told him to get out while he can, before it is too late_, she said to herself. But she thought, with a little bit of unexpected bitterness,_ All the good men are taken in by the foolish girls, and are eventually worn down to fools themselves. _

And perhaps she was right; such is the vanity of this world.


End file.
